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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674297">Scared</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity'>fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Control Group [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Past Child Abuse, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:02:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Cloud hung back behind the fountain, where the kids wouldn’t notice him. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to interrupt their game, and tried to ignore the voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Tifa, saying</em> you’re afraid of Luca. </p>
<p><em>Except it wasn’t only that, was it? Scrubbing a hand down his face, Cloud sighed.</em> You’re afraid he’ll be scared of you, <em>Tifa’s voice chided gently.</em> Whose fault is that?</p>
<p>The problem with Luca getting angry is that it looks an awful lot like Sephiroth getting angry, and a flashback is the last thing Cloud needs while dealing with a screaming toddler.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Control Group [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have a long and storied AO3 history of writing soft-angsty kid fic to deal with work stress. So have some more soft-angsty kid fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, Cloud thought, the fact that they’d made it five whole days without a meltdown should have been a warning sign. Cloud didn’t know how to care for a baby, so Luca’s calm demeanor, his willingness to go along with Cloud’s direction, had been a relief. But Luca was barely three years old, and a blood-covered Cloud had dragged him out of his hiding place in a closet and carried him through the smoke and flames of the burning Shinra mansion, then whisked him away to a strange place surrounded by people he didn’t know. That it had taken the boy five days to reach his breaking point was an ugly testament to how harshly Hojo had treated his specimen. </p>
<p>Still, it was hard to find sympathy for the boy when he was screaming at the top of his lungs, wordless high-pitched shrieks that raked against Cloud’s ears. Worse, Cloud had no idea what had set the boy off. They’d developed something of a routine, these last few nights: dinner, a wash in the sink, then settling Luca into the narrow bed and reading one or more of the hand-painted books Imogen had found for them, until he fell asleep. Tonight, though, when Cloud had carried Luca over to the bed and set him down, Luca had screeched <em>no!</em> and tried to climb back up Cloud’s shoulder. Cloud had detached him and put him back down, and Luca had just…</p>
<p>Started <em>screaming</em>. </p>
<p>Cloud stared helplessly at the boy where he stood on the bed, tiny fists clenched at his sides. He was still shrieking, tears streaking his cheeks and his pale skin gone red and blotchy. “Hey,” Cloud tried. “Hey, uh—”</p>
<p>The boy’s screams got louder, alternating with gasping sobs that shook his whole body. His head fell as he struggled to breathe, so his face was hidden behind his shaggy bangs. </p>
<p>Cloud floundered. He had no idea how to deal with a crying toddler; by the time Marlene had come to live with him and Tifa full-time she’d mostly outgrown this kind of tantrum, and Tifa had handled the few that had happened. Wait, there was a thought: maybe Tifa’s methods would work here.</p>
<p>Cautiously, Cloud reached toward the boy, intending to rest a hand on his shoulder - but Luca’s little fist snapped out, slamming into Cloud’s arm. Small as he was, even his Jenova-enhanced strength wasn’t nearly enough to hurt Cloud, much less push his arm away as the boy had clearly intended. But the motion still caught Cloud off-guard, set old battle-heightened reflexes on edge— </p>
<p>And then the boy looked up, slit-pupiled green eyes glaring at Cloud from behind white bangs— </p>
<p>
  <em>I will never be a memory</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It’s been a long time, Cloud</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You ignorant traitor</em>
</p>
<p>The screaming stopped. </p>
<p>The Fusion Blade’s grip creaked in Cloud’s hands. </p>
<p>He didn’t remember grabbing it from its resting place beside the other bed, didn’t remember moving at all, but it didn’t matter, his heart was pounding <em>danger-danger-danger</em> behind his ribs, Sephiroth was here again and his blood roared in preparation for the fight—  </p>
<p>—But there was no fight. Silence rang through the room like Masamune’s edge, broken only by Cloud’s own tense, rasping breaths. The boy had fallen backward on the bed, staring past his knees at Cloud in stark terror. </p>
<p>Cloud’s next breath choked him. Every instinct he had, every nerve in his body, howled <em>danger-fight-pain-death</em>, his arms shaking with the effort not to attack, not to strike Sephiroth down again— </p>
<p>Sephiroth had never once looked afraid, not in all the times Cloud had killed him. </p>
<p>
  <em>Do you remember this pain?</em>
</p>
<p>No. Cloud gasped air around the phantom blade puncturing his lungs. </p>
<p>Luca sat terrified, silent tears welling in his eyes. </p>
<p>Dragging words out past the memory of being impaled left Cloud’s voice a growl. “Lie down. Be quiet. <em>Now.</em>” </p>
<p>The boy did, instantly. </p>
<p>Cloud forced himself to put down his sword, resting it carefully against the wall. He opened the bedroom door and left the room, and tried not to see the way the boy trembled.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The front door groaned open, then rattled shut. Hunched over the kitchen table, Cloud didn’t lift his head from where he held it propped in both hands. A moment later Imogen swept into the kitchen, smelling of sweat and visceral things that sent another wave of memory over Cloud. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers harder into his hair, chasing back the memories of pain and blood. </p>
<p>“Someone’s had a rough night,” Imogen observed.</p>
<p>“Tantrum,” Cloud managed. His voice was hoarse, and his jaw ached as he moved it; he hadn’t realized how hard he’d been gritting his teeth. </p>
<p>“Oh, is that all,” Imogen said, though her voice was gently teasing. Cloud made himself look up at her; she smiled, the crows-feet at the corners of her eyes crinkling. “But I forgot,” she added as she settled her big bag on the kitchen floor and crossed to the stove. “You don’t know anything about raising little ones.” </p>
<p>Cloud groaned and dropped his forehead to the table. </p>
<p>“Speaking of little ones,” Imogen said lightly, “it’s a girl. My first granddaughter. Easy birth, as births go. My daughter and her man are thrilled to have a baby girl, after all those boys. Let me tell you, that’s going to be one spoiled baby - all her big brothers are doting on her already, and she’s just a few hours old.” She kept talking as she bustled around the kitchen, aimless chatter about her grandsons and how excited they’d been for the birth. Cloud stayed at the table, letting her voice wash over him, pushing back the tide of battle-memories until he felt like he could breathe again. </p>
<p>Dishes clattered and the fire of the stove crackled warmly, and finally the teakettle whistled. Imogen set a mug down in front of Cloud; it smelled of herbs and honey and the sharp bite of alcohol. He looked up at Imogen in surprise. </p>
<p>“I heard SOLDIERs don’t drink,” she said apologetically, “but you look like you could use it.” </p>
<p><em>I’m not a SOLDIER</em> tangled with <em>how could you tell</em> on Cloud’s tongue; after a moment of struggling he decided it wasn’t worth it, and shrugged. “It’s not that we don’t. We just can’t get drunk. The mako.” </p>
<p>“Ah,” Imogen said in the tone of one who didn’t actually understand at all. She sat down across from Cloud, cradling a mug of her own. After a moment she said quietly, “It hasn’t been so many years since half the town’s young men left to go east, to join Shinra’s army. A couple of them even came back.” She paused to take a sip of her tea, then pinned Cloud with a sharp brown gaze. “You have the same look in your eyes as those boys did.”</p>
<p>Cloud stared at her. </p>
<p>She smiled, faint and sad. “Billy couldn’t handle it when his boy screamed, either. So tell me about this tantrum.” </p>
<p>It took a few tries to get the words out. Cloud didn’t bother trying to explain who and what Luca was; Imogen clearly got the gist of what was really wrong even if she couldn’t know how deep that particular wound ran for Cloud. But he told her enough that she nodded in understanding, and made him another mug of tea. </p>
<p>When she’d set the new mug down and settled back into her chair, Imogen said, “My oldest was an easy baby. Not much crying at all. My second, though…” She shook her head, a wry smile twisting her lips. “Oh, that boy could <em>howl</em>. Like a screamer up Mount Nibel. There were days when I thought I’d go mad from it. It took me a while, but I figured out something that worked pretty well to calm him down without either of us losing our minds. I can tell you, if you’d like.” </p>
<p>Cloud thought about the little boy upstairs. How close Cloud had come to letting his battle instincts get the better of him, when all the boy had done was look at him. How the boy shook with a terror no child should ever have to know. “Yeah,” he said to Imogen. “Please.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Selfishly, Cloud hoped that Luca would forget all about what had happened by the next morning, the way kids forgot yesterday’s scraped knee or bruised elbow. But what had happened last night was far worse than a surface wound, and Luca was silent and withdrawn as Cloud chivvied him through getting dressed and eating breakfast. </p>
<p>Imogen had gone back to her daughter’s to help with the newborn, which meant Cloud had to take Luca out to the town’s tiny square, where a thirteen-year-old girl named Urte presided over a gaggle of younger kids whose parents didn’t want them underfoot during the day. The other times he’d let Luca play with the village kids, the boy had been shyly excited. Today, though, Luca wedged himself under the lip of the central fountain and curled into a little ball. </p>
<p>Urte gave Cloud a sharp look. “What’s with him?” </p>
<p>“He’s... not feeling well,” Cloud said. “Didn’t sleep last night.” </p>
<p>“Hmph.” Urte folded her arms over her apron and scowled. With her blond hair drawn back in a messy bun and her rough linen dress swirling around her ankles, she suddenly looked like a smaller version of Cloud’s own ma. Homesickness lanced through him, an old grief, and he couldn’t help but glance down at the boy again. Silver hair and green eyes, the memory of fire burning his skin— </p>
<p>“If he pukes,” Urte warned, breaking into Cloud’s thoughts, “you gotta take him back. I don’t want all the other rats getting sick too.”</p>
<p>Cloud shook himself, shoving the memory down deep where it belonged, and grunted agreement. “You know where to find me.” </p>
<p>“Hmph,” Urte said again. Cloud felt her eyes on his back the whole way to Old Man Coram’s garage.</p>
<p>The old man’s ancient beater of a truck was coming along nicely, at least - one good thing to focus on. Cloud lost himself in the work, in the rhythm of hands and metal, and by the time the sun set behind the Nibel mountains in the west, he’d finished everything that could be finished without the shipment of parts he and Coram were both waiting on. Coram had said to expect the shipment to come in three weeks or so; if it had only been truck parts, it probably would’ve gotten there sooner, but Cloud had put in an order for the parts he’d need to repair Fenrir, as well. It had been five days already, which meant another two weeks and change in the little foothills village. </p>
<p>At least the villagers were both friendly and willing to accept trade instead of cash. After fixing Old Man Coram’s truck, Cloud was going to help build an extension to Imogen’s daughter’s house, and he had no doubt Imogen would find more work for him for as long as Cloud wanted to stay in her spare room. But for today, at least, he was done.</p>
<p>When he got back to the square, he found Urte with about half the kids she’d had that morning, the rest probably having gone home already. She’d hiked her skirts up around her knees and was kicking a leather ball around with nimble expertise while the rest of the kids tried to steal it from her. She had also managed to coax Luca out from under the fountain at some point; he ran alongside the bigger kids, too small and uncoordinated to be helpful but clearly enjoying himself. </p>
<p>Cloud hung back behind the fountain, where the kids wouldn’t notice him. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to interrupt their game, and tried to ignore the voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Tifa, saying <em>you’re afraid of Luca.</em> </p>
<p>It was stupid to be afraid - Luca was <em>three years old.</em> Three years old and not much bigger than a large housecat, yet it was still all too easy to look at the boy’s silver hair and slit-pupiled green eyes and think <em>Sephiroth</em>, think <em>the greatest SOLDIER who ever lived, </em>think <em>the man who burned down Nibelheim and nearly destroyed the world twice over.</em></p>
<p>Except it wasn’t only that, was it? Scrubbing a hand down his face, Cloud sighed. <em>You’re afraid he’ll be scared of you,</em> Tifa’s voice chided gently. <em>Whose fault is that?</em></p>
<p>Out in the town square, one of the older kids had finally managed to get the ball away from Urte. She collapsed on the ground dramatically, panting. “Go home, you rats,” she said, though she was giggling. Most of the kids scattered obediently, though Luca and a little blond boy Cloud thought was Urte’s younger brother stayed behind. </p>
<p>Cloud made himself step out from behind the fountain. “Luca,” he called. “Time to go.” </p>
<p>The boy jumped at the sound of his name, and when he turned to look at Cloud, it was heartbreaking to see the laughter in his eyes die out, and his expression go shuttered and afraid. Cloud held out his hand, waiting, and Urte sat up to give the boy a nudge. He went, though he didn’t come close enough to take Cloud’s hand, and just trailed along behind him as they headed back to Imogen’s house. </p>
<p>Like that morning, Luca was silent except for sharp little <em>yessirs</em> when Cloud told him to do something. Dinner was awkward; with Imogen still at her daughter’s house, Cloud had to cook, and he’d never been good at making more than sandwiches. He was acutely aware that a couple of days ago, Luca would have been at Cloud’s elbow the whole time, asking questions, but now the boy sat quietly at the table with his hands folded in his lap. He helped clean up without being told, carrying his plate over to the sink and standing on tiptoe to set it on the counter. </p>
<p>Cloud considered the dishes for all of two seconds before deciding they weren’t worth bothering with tonight. Imogen wouldn’t be back for a few days anyway - she’d said last night that she planned to stay with her daughter to help with the new baby - and Cloud could wash the plates in the morning. Instead, he said to Luca, “Come on. Bedtime.” </p>
<p>The boy’s already-pale face went paler, but he muttered a <em>yessir</em> and began climbing up the stairs. Cloud followed, worry growing a tight knot in his gut. Imogen had prepared him for another temper tantrum, not this silent, terrified obedience. It wasn’t the first time Cloud had wanted to throttle Hojo for what the man had done to his own son in the name of research, but it was the first time Cloud himself felt guilty. Luca was clearly terrified of him. What if Cloud had ruined his only chance at saving the boy from becoming the Son of Calamity? </p>
<p>Luca stopped outside the door of their room, his tiny shoulders shaking. Cloud reached over his head to open the door. “Come on,” he said, making his voice as gentle as he could. “Let’s get you washed up.” </p>
<p>He picked up the boy without waiting for a response. Luca hung limp in Cloud’s arms as Cloud gave him a quick wipe-down with soap and warm water, cleaning off the grime of a day’s worth of playing in the dusty town square. When he was reasonably clean, Cloud carried the boy over to his bed and started to set him down.</p>
<p>“No,” Luca whispered. His tiny hands knotted in Cloud’s shirt. “No, no, no, no!” </p>
<p>“Hey—” Cloud started, but he was too late. The boy’s face crumpled and he started screaming. Cloud winced at the volume, but made himself hitch Luca up against his shoulder despite the way the boy’s screams grated against his ears. Made himself take a few deep breaths, and focus on what Imogen had told him last night. “Hey,” Cloud said again. “Luca.” </p>
<p>The boy didn’t seem to hear him, sobbing, his whole body shaking. Cloud rubbed the boy’s back gently. “I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” </p>
<p><em>If he’s screaming, it’s because something’s wrong, </em>Imogen had said last night. <em>Kids that young, though, don’t always know how to tell you what’s wrong. So you have to help them figure it out.</em></p>
<p>Luca’s only response was another scream. Cloud said anyway, “Are you hurt?” </p>
<p><em>Start with if he’s hurt, </em>Imogen had said. <em>That’s the most important thing. It’s probably not what your boy’s crying about, but you want to get him used to it. Half the trick of these questions is the routine - it’ll calm him down the more you do it. </em></p>
<p>Luca shook his head, still wailing. </p>
<p>“Okay,” Cloud said. “Are you angry?” </p>
<p><em>Angry’s a good one to ask next,</em> Imogen had continued. <em>Every other time I asked my boy, he was angry. Little things, too, like he didn’t like his shirt, or he was upset he didn’t get waffles for breakfast.</em></p>
<p>Another head shake. At least Imogen had been right about the calming effect of the questions: the boy’s screams began to fade, though he was still crying, hiccupping little gasps against Cloud’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Third question, then. “Are you scared?” </p>
<p>A long pause, then the boy shook his head again. But the pause had been enough. </p>
<p>“You’re scared?” Cloud said. Remembered just in time to be careful with his language. “What are you scared of?” </p>
<p>He’d fully expected the boy to say he was scared of Cloud, after what had happened yesterday - but to his surprise, Luca twisted in Cloud’s arms just enough to point at the bed. The boy had his face tucked against Cloud’s neck, so Cloud didn’t bother hiding his frown of confusion. “The bed?” </p>
<p>A nod.</p>
<p>Well, both times Luca had started screaming, it had been when Cloud had tried to set him on the bed. Cloud asked, “What’s scary about the bed?” </p>
<p>Luca pointed again, though as far as Cloud could tell, he was still just pointing at the bed. Cloud guessed, “The blankets?” </p>
<p>“Wrong,” Luca whispered into Cloud’s shoulder. </p>
<p>“The… pillow?”</p>
<p>“<em>Wrong,</em>” Luca said again, and hiccuped a little sob. He pointed again, finger wavering in the general direction of the bed. </p>
<p>Cloud paused, rubbing the boy’s back absently as he thought. He remembered Marlene getting upset a few years ago, not long after Barret had left Edge. Tifa had made hot chocolate, but Marlene had insisted it wasn’t how Daddy made it and refused to touch it. After much back-and-forth, Tifa had figured out that the thing that was wrong was not that it had been made differently, but that it hadn’t been made by Barret. Cautiously, Cloud asked the boy, “Is it wrong because it’s not your bed?” </p>
<p>A nod and a sniffle. </p>
<p>“Your bed’s gone,” Cloud said as gently as he could. “This is where you’ll sleep for now.” </p>
<p>“It’s dead?” Luca asked, his voice cracking.</p>
<p>“It’s gone,” Cloud repeated.</p>
<p>“You said dead is gone forever,” Luca reminded him.</p>
<p>Cloud <em>really</em> should not have tried to explain death to a three-year-old. Still, the boy wasn’t exactly wrong - not only would his bed have burned with the rest of the mansion, it was now some three decades in the past. “Yeah, but—”</p>
<p>The boy started wailing again, which was just as well because Cloud hadn’t actually known how to finish that sentence. He braced himself to start over with the questions, but before he could, Luca choked out, “When will you be dead?” </p>
<p>That startled Cloud enough that he actually pulled Luca away from his shoulder so he could see the boy’s face. “What?” </p>
<p>“Professor Hojo made them go away,” Luca sobbed. “Forever. You’ll go away forever too.” </p>
<p>Cloud was <em>definitely </em>missing something important about this conversation. “He made who go away?” </p>
<p>“Mathis,” Luca said. “Sem. Leah.” His nose wrinkled, and in an eerily accurate imitation of Hojo, he said, “He’s getting attached. Can’t have that. A good soldier doesn’t have attachments.” </p>
<p>Attachments…? </p>
<p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p>
<p>Cloud’s knees gave out and he barely managed to control his fall backward onto the other bed, biting his tongue against a string of curses. Caretakers. Those must have been Luca’s caretakers, because of course Hojo wouldn’t bother actually tending to his own son. And then whenever Luca started bonding with one, Hojo had replaced them with someone new. </p>
<p>No wonder the boy was breaking down. The bed itself wasn’t the problem; it was the loss and separation it represented, even if Luca was too young to articulate or even understand that. Everyone he cared about had been taken from him. Then Cloud had torn him away from whoever his latest caretaker had been, and now Luca was waiting for Cloud to be taken away, too.</p>
<p>The boy had fallen against Cloud’s shoulder when he’d sat down abruptly, and now clung to Cloud’s neck, crying quietly. Cloud rubbed his back in gentle circles. “Hojo’s dead, remember?” he said. “He can’t make me go anywhere.”</p>
<p>Luca shook his head. </p>
<p>Cloud sighed. He wasn’t sure how else to explain it, how to convince the boy that Cloud really wasn’t going to vanish overnight. Then Luca mumbled something into Cloud’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Cloud nudged him gently. “What?” </p>
<p>“Sword,” Luca said, louder this time, and pointed at the Fusion Blade where it leaned against the wall. “So you don’t go away.” </p>
<p>Cloud had to take a second to parse that. “If anyone tries to make me go away, I can use the sword to stop them?” </p>
<p>Luca nodded. </p>
<p>It was an effort of will not to ask why a three-year-old knew what swords were for, but then, the answer was the same as all the rest: Hojo, who’d been shaping the boy into the perfect soldier since he was born. </p>
<p>Sephiroth had never stood a chance. </p>
<p>For a second Cloud almost wished Hojo <em>would</em> come back to life, just so Cloud could kill him a third time. He sighed, then shifted Luca in his arms so he could stand up. “You’re right,” he told the boy. “If anyone tries to make me go away, I can stop them. I’m not going anywhere. Understand?” </p>
<p>The boy hesitated - but finally nodded. </p>
<p>“Good,” Cloud said. He crossed the two steps back to Luca’s bed. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay right here, okay?” </p>
<p>Another tentative nod. Cloud set the boy down on the bed, inwardly bracing himself for more screaming - but thank every one of the old gods, Luca laid down without a fuss. Cloud tucked the blankets around him, then sat next to him, his back against the headboard. The boy’s eyes were already drifting closed; he was clearly exhausted from the long day of fear and his outburst. Cloud decided not to bother with reading, and flipped off the lamp on the nightstand between the beds. </p>
<p>Luca made a tiny noise as the light went out. Cloud rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m right here,” he said. “It’s okay.” </p>
<p>Luca settled at that, tension bleeding out from his tiny body. There was something oddly peaceful about sitting there in the dark and the quiet, listening to the boy breathe. It reminded Cloud of his own childhood in the Nibel mountains, the nights he’d drifted off to his ma’s sleep-steady breathing in the other bed. Without meaning to, Cloud found himself humming softly: an old lullaby, one his ma had sung for him when he couldn’t sleep. </p>
<p>Some small part of his mind was horrified, that he was singing his ma’s lullaby to the man who’d killed her. Except Luca wasn’t that man - he was an innocent child who hadn’t hurt anyone. Not yet. Not ever, if Cloud had any say in the matter.</p>
<p>In the warm moonlight filtering through the window, Cloud could just see that Luca’s eyes were closed, his face soft and peaceful in sleep. For once he didn’t look like Sephiroth at all - just an exhausted toddler, who’d been through things no child should ever have to experience, who was terrified he’d be abandoned again. </p>
<p>Cloud shifted so he could lean against the headboard, and closed his eyes. He’d hum the lullaby until he fell asleep himself, and when Luca woke up in the morning, Cloud would be right there where the boy could see. Luca couldn’t know how many times Hojo had tried to kill Cloud in the past, how close he’d come more than once. But none of them mattered, because Hojo was the one who’d ended up dead. </p>
<p>He’d never be able to hurt Luca again.</p>
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